


Rebirth

by Lina_Love



Series: Eddsworld Bullshit [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Hurt No Comfort, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24672751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lina_Love/pseuds/Lina_Love
Summary: Honestly this is just a drabble / rambling / not concrete kind of fic.It's just from Tord's perspective after The End because I felt emo.
Series: Eddsworld Bullshit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796059
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> take my angsty tord ramblings from me so I don't have to cry over a commie

Ｒｅｂｉｒｔｈ ；  
Ｔｏｒｄ 

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥?

The smell of smoke was overwhelming. Swirling and twinning in the air. Nauseating as it mixed with the smell of gasoline and the iron in his own blood. Numbly, there was the concern of the rubble sparking up and causing even more damage, but it was quickly forgotten.

If it lit the hill up in a ball of flames, then a disgrace of a human life would be wiped off the face of the world.

If it didn't, he would still be punished for his sins.

He settled on his knees, staring down to the damage he'd caused.

The feeling of sickness mixed with guilt, hatred, regret. Bile rose in the back of his throat. Maybe he was going into shock.

He was too lucid for that to be the case, horribly, horribly lucid.

He couldn't feel his arm. He only knew it was bleeding from the way the grass below him was coated in red.

Drip, drip, dripping.

Oozing and gushing, life spilled from him the same way his emotions over boiled. Tears flooded his eye. Eye--only one. Why could he only see out of one eye?

Why was he crying?

He hadn't cried in years.

He hadn't felt in years.

The feeling in his chest was like a snake, constricting his heart, squeezing and creating a sense of hopelessness.

He didn't want to do this. He didn't want anyone he cared about to get hurt.

The house had been empty, he was going to take what he'd left behind and vanish without a trace.

Longing and adoration filled him when he stepped through the threshold on his old home. Genuine happiness was there as he reconnected with the only friends he'd ever managed to make.

He had wanted to stay. He wanted to see Edd smile. To be the one to make him laugh. To go back to being the man's best friend. To go back to feeling like he had a place in the world as a good person.

To be the hero instead of the villain.

Then Tom.

The man's very existence erased the need for normalcy. He convinced himself for the millionth time that he was unworthy of friendship. That he was broken, and that the darkness that lingered in him would never be drowned out by the light those three created.

Matt and his blinding sunshine of a personality, the naivety and good willed nature of Edd, the grounding reality of Tom.

He didn't deserve it. He didn't match. He was negative, he ruined everything he touched.

The reminder of that…

It's why they had to burn.

It's why he had to burn.

Why he had to take everyone down with him to cope with the feeling of worthlessness.

He'd make something of himself. He would feed into the growing void of blackness. He didn't have a choice anymore.

It was all he was made to be, and he couldn't kid himself or put it off any longer.

He had jumped off a cliff, and now the chilled, raging waters were pulling him under and away, and he was too tired to fight back. To fight for air. He had already drowned in a sea of scattered thoughts and feelings, and any strain of sanity he was gripping onto was gone.

Tord was dead.

All that stood in the place of the man he used to be was the leader of the Red Army.

Full of anger and fueled by spite.

He knew their eyes were on him.

Patryck, Paul. God bless them for all they put up with.

Fingers gripped onto a metal limb, and he slowly pulled himself to his feet.

One last look was offered to the burning rubble of his old home, before he turned his back on it.

He took one step forward before a wave of dizziness overcame him. He felt himself falling, but before the ground connected with his face, his body was being pulled back up by his tallest caretaker.

Patryck. He was warm, he was safe. 

His hand curled into the material of his overcoat, silently giving up for the moment, too weak to carry on without assistance.

He allowed his body to be moved and settled into a car.

His eyes fell shut, and his mind drifted out of consciousness with one final thought.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏.


End file.
